


eleven minutes past ten

by vapid



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #osahina, Canon Compliant, Comfort Food, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Late Night Banter in Onigiri Miya, M/M, Not Beta Read, Onigiri Miya, Osamu-centric, Post-Timeskip, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, rated T because of Atsumu's foul mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapid/pseuds/vapid
Summary: In which Osamu falls in love with the way Hinata eats.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Osamu
Comments: 54
Kudos: 571





	eleven minutes past ten

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a short 1k oneshot but......here we are now :') 
> 
> i hope you like it! stan osahina!!

Miya Osamu lives his life simply, straightforwardly. No shortcuts, no easy way out.

It comes as no surprise then, that the process of falling in love is just as simple for him.

* * *

Spring High National Tournament, 2013.

It’s eleven minutes past ten in the morning, and Inarizaki had just lost to Karasuno 2-1. 

Osamu descends the stairs, the screams and shouts from the court still ringing in his ears. The smell of sweat, of Mikasa volleyballs, of pain relief spray...It all seems so far away already. 

For some reason, Osamu isn’t as upset as he probably should’ve been. Sure, that moment with Kita-san was pretty emotional. But for some reason, he isn't getting that feeling that Atsumu must be feeling right now; the feeling that everyone else on the team, who probably hadn’t even considered the possibility of them losing on their very first day, must be feeling. 

But strangely, Osamu feels quite calm. Or, more accurately, he feels numbed out.

Losers. What does it mean to lose? 

What does it mean for their team, favorites to win the whole tournament, to lose out against a lesser known, practically nameless school in their very first game? In the face of such lofty expectations, what does it mean to lose? What does losing mean for _him_?

Osamu exhales through his nose. He doesn’t really want to think about all this. Not right now. 

His stomach growls a little. He places a hand on his stomach, contemplating. 

Maybe _this_ is what it means to lose. 

Losers like him only have two things left to do: 

1) to get some food into their system, and 

2) to leave, the sooner the better.

Osamu reaches the bottom of the stairs and starts a little when he sees a group of Karasuno players, sitting right around the corner with food in their hands. Right next to them is where the food stands are located in this gym, meaning that meeting eyes and maybe even crossing paths with a player or two is inevitable. 

Oh well. Osamu doesn’t really care for confrontation or anything. He’s the loser, after all. Despite this, he’s not really in the mood to come face-to-face with the people who’ve just defeated him literally minutes ago; unless, of course, they ask him what food he’s getting from the stalls or something. 

Osamu’s no sore loser.

He sniffs the air, the comforting smell of an amalgamation of street foods wafting through his nose. Glancing across the row of a dozen or so stands, Osamu’s eyes widen at the familiar sight of a stand selling akashiyaki, one of Osamu’s Hyogo favorites—which just so happens to be the stand closest to the group of Karasuno players. 

Ignoring this fact, Osamu starts to make his way steadily over to the stall when all of a sudden, something orange flashes in the corner of his eye. 

Right next to the tamagoyaki stand, sitting cross-legged with a towel around his neck, is Karasuno’s #10, wolfing down a bento in his hand like there’s no tomorrow.

Osamu feels his footsteps falter and slow down, his eyes taking in the orange-haired boy currently devouring the rice and plain vegetables in his bento box like it’s the most delicious thing in the entire world. 

Osamu stares. There’s something about the way Karasuno’s #10 eats that makes him stop completely in his tracks. It’s the way his cheeks are full, an elated glint shining in his eyes as he munches on his food happily; the way he stops from time to time and smiles as he chews, the corners of his eyes crinkling each time. 

It’s as if someone could come along and tell him that the bento in his hand would be the last meal he’s ever going to have on earth—and he’d be totally fine with it.

Something stirs in Osamu and he jolts a little. _Hm?_

An emotion that Osamu can’t quite pinpoint plants itself in his heart. His eyes trail over #10’s face, outlining the round eyes and button nose, the grain of rice stuck to the left corner of his mouth. Osamu feels warmth spreading through him at the sight. 

“Hey Mister! What are ya standin’ there for?” 

A voice cuts through his reverie and he turns to see the lady behind the stand with a pointed look on her face, eyebrows raised.

Osamu flushes ever so slightly, only just realizing that he had been standing all trance-like at an awkward distance right in front of the stall. He shuffles forward and bows his head apologetically to the lady, the aroma of the tamagoyaki overpowering everything else.

//

The bus coughs and the doors hiss to a close. His teammates doze off one by one, Atsumu already snoring next to him with one hand propping his head up. 

Osamu leaves Tokyo without leaving so much as an afterthought on the games behind—but in the back of his mind, the image of Karasuno’s #10 continues to linger ever so gently. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next time Osamu sees Hinata eat again, six years have passed. 

The newly opened Onigiri Miya is bustling with people, voices and laughter filling up the tiny shop. The sweet aroma of freshly cooked rice, sesame oil, and miso soup drift through the air, along with a faint smell of wood and disinfectant from Osamu’s hourly cleaning of his workspace. In front of him the counter is packed, customers watching with curious eyes as he makes orders nonstop. It’s a Saturday night, and business is doing better than ever.

Osamu had moved to Tokyo for the time being, as he prefers to oversee the business himself, leaving the original shop back home in his parents’ care. Thankfully, the Tokyo branch has been able to enjoy a good amount of success since its official opening two weeks ago, with the help of some famous friends—mostly Sunarin and Aran-kun, who’d come to visit when they were in the city. Atsumu couldn’t be bothered; “too busy with practice” or whatever. 

Speaking of Atsumu. Osamu checks the clock hanging on the side of the wall and sighs. Of course he’s late. He’d said he would come over today after practice, but it’s been forty minutes already. 

Skip a few hours later and it’s eleven minutes past ten when he finally arrives. Osamu can hear their voices already, chatting loudly outside. 

Of course. For Atsumu, forty minutes usually turn into three hours. Go figure.

“Hey hey hey! Myaa-sam!” 

Osamu glances up at the loud, cheery voice that belongs to no other than Bokuto Koutarou himself, closely followed by his good-for-nothing brother and—

Osamu stills. It’s that flash of orange again. 

Osamu had forgotten. Atsumu’d said he would bring teammates with him today. And the fact that his newest teammate is none other than Hinata Shoyo himself had completely slipped Osamu’s mind. 

Karasuno’s #10, now with a name attached to his face instead of a number, walks in behind Atsumu, his eyes as bright as ever under the washed out yellow lights.

“Osamu-san! Hi! It’s been a while!” Hinata’s voice echoes around the empty shop, the golden fabric of his MSBY jacket shimmering slightly, standing out against the dark wood of the door he had just shut behind him.

“Can’t believe we’re finally visiting Myaa-sam’s shop! The real deal, and not just some stand on the side of the game!” Bokuto exclaims wildly, swinging his arm around a scowling Atsumu. 

“Welcome,” Osamu’s smile widens at the sight of his brother’s tortured face, gesturing the group of three to the empty seats in front of the counter. “Sakusa bailed, huh?”

“Yeah, that asstard,” Atsumu snorts derisively. Osamu sighs at the way his dumbass brother aggressively plucks out a set of chopsticks from the chopsticks container, almost knocking the container over.

“The hell is an asstard?” Osamu rolls his eyes, placing cups of hot genmaicha tea in front of the three. “Another one of yer lame combo nicknames, huh.”

“It ain’t lame! It’s a combination of asshole and bastard! It’s perfect! That’s literally Omi-omi kun, thanks very much!”

“Whatever ya say, just don’t make a mess outta my shop,” Osamu shoots back, hand reaching over to move the container back to its original place on the table. 

“Is this how yer supposed ta treat yer customers?!” 

Osamu grins smugly. “Nah, _you_ in particular get extra special treatment from me.”

“Hmph.” Atsumu slumps back in his seat, grumbling _‘Samu asstard_ under his breath.

“Come on Atsumu-san, don’t be so mean to Omi-san!” Hinata laughs at the twins’ exchange, taking a sip of his tea. “You know how Omi-san feels about eating in unknown places!”

Hinata jumps a little and turns towards Osamu, giving him an apologetic look. “No offense, Osamu-san. I’m sure Onigiri Miya is super well-known!”

“None taken,” Osamu replies, putting up a hand. 

Hinata grins and turns his attention back to placating a still very pissed off-looking Atsumu, and Osamu can’t help but let his eyes wander over Hinata’s face, taking in the features that seem so foreign yet so strangely familiar to him.

Over the last 6 years, Osamu’s practically ingrained the image of Hinata eating that bento box in his brain. He hadn’t noticed it until very recently, but he realized that every time obstacles pop up in the process of running his business—when customers complain about his food or when he hits a creative block and can’t come up with new menu items—he thinks about the way Hinata was eating, that one time during the tournament back in high school. He thinks about the way Hinata had deeply treasured the food in front of him; genuinely, sincerely. 

It's nice to know that despite the difficulties of working in this industry, at least there’s someone out there who eats their food with such unfeigned gratitude. It makes him feel hopeful.

“...ya ain’t wrong, Shoyo-kun; Onigiri Miya would’ve _still_ been unknown...if it weren’t for my promo, of course!”

Atsumu’s absurd remark snaps Osamu out of his thoughts and he shoots him a dirty look. “The most ya ever did fer Onigiri Miya was repost Sunarin’s Instagram story that he tagged ya in, and ya don’t even _follow_ us on Instagram. If it weren’t for yer promo my _ass_.”

Bokuto, having ignored the loud squabble all this time, is still scanning the menu, looking very torn over the options. “Myaa-saaaam I don’t know what to order! Gimme some recommendations!”

“Yeah man, we’re tired of yer usual shit; hit us with some new food!” Atsumu adds, waving his hand airily like some rich old lady in a western movie.

“Hey, don’t lump me in with you!” Hinata protests, putting both hands in the air. “Osamu-san’s onigiris are the best, I’d never get tired of them even in a million years!”

Osamu flushes a little at the compliment, feeling the tips of his ears turning hot.

“Oi, don’t go strokin’ his ego,” Atsumu stops Hinata before he can go on, a panicky look in his eyes. “Once ya compliment his cooking, you’ll never see the end of it!”

“But it’s true though!” Hinata argues back hotly. “I don’t think I’ve tasted onigiris as yummy as Osamu-san’s!”

Osamu fidgets, warmth blooming across his chest. It’s not every day a rookie shop owner like him gets to be on the receiving end of such honest praise. It’s a nice feeling.

“Alright!” Bokuto perks up suddenly, his excited voice serving as a good distraction for Osamu. “I’ll get the yakiniku onigiri set! And also the karaage onigiri set! Ooh ooh and the teriyaki salmon onigiri set! And—”

“Woah woah, are ya tryin’ ta stuff yerself ta death? ‘Samu here makes gigantic onigiris for us athletes, in case ya didn’t know,” Atsumu stops himself mid-sentence and grimaces at the way Bokuto’s eager expression falls, face drooping.

“But I wanna try them all…”

“I’ll just make ya all of ‘em in normal sizes then, if ya wanna try ‘em out,” Osamu says, trying his best to multitask between appeasing the sad Bokuto in front of him and preparing the needed ingredients for the orders. 

Bokuto whoops in delight and settles back in his chair, looking satisfied. 

“The usual for you, ‘Tsumu?”

“Uh-huh,” Atsumu replies, looking bored as he flips through the menu absentmindedly.

Osamu nods and turns to Hinata at last. “What wouldja like, Shoyo-kun?” 

Hinata grins widely, excitement sparkling in his eyes. “I’ll take anything you have that has egg in it!”

“Ya like eggs, huh?” Osamu can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “We have fried egg and onsen egg, or if ya want egg mixed in the onigiri itself, there’s also that; you can add spam or sakura shrimp too.”

“Then I’ll have one of all of them!” Hinata jumps up excitedly before he stills, smiling sheepishly and running a hand across his orange hair. “Of course, if that’s not too much of a bother!”

How can Osamu say no to that face?

Osamu starts making the onigiri sets and the four begin to chatter back and forth, Bokuto filling Osamu in on the embarrassing things that had happened to Atsumu during practice and Hinata on the side trying his best to cheer a sullen Atsumu up. 

//

“Alright, One XXL minced tuna and spring onion onigiri set, one onsen egg grilled onigiri set, one yakiniku onigiri set,” Osamu carefully places the meals in front of the three ravenous men. “Thanks for the wait~”

“Wahh!” The collective noises from Atsumu and Bokuto fill up the tiny space. “Thank you for the meal!”

Atsumu and Bokuto dig in and immediately start making inappropriate noises (thank goodness the shop’s empty), but that’s not really what Osamu wants to focus on at the moment.

He centers his gaze on Hinata, who is still deep in thought; his hands are clasped together, eyes tightly shut. 

It’s been six years since he first saw Hinata eat that bento box, and now he’s about to see Hinata eat again—this time with Hinata sitting directly in front of him, the bento box replaced with Osamu’s very own onigiris. 

Having kept that memory from high school in his mind all this time, a buried emotion stirs in him as he watches Hinata closely. 

Hinata reopens his eyes and smiles widely, a thrilled look on his face as he bows his head a little in Osamu’s direction. “Thank you for the meal!”

Osamu doesn’t know why he held his breath, but he did. The sound of Atsumu and Bokuto bickering in the background turn into mere static, and nothing else around him seems to matter as much as this moment right now. He stares as Hinata sniffs the onigiri and takes a humongous bite, sighing into his mouthful. 

Saying that Hinata’s eyes lit up like Christmas would be an understatement. He instantly starts wolfing down the onigiri, savoring the gooey egg yolk and the grilled crispiness of the rice, his mouth forming a curved line as he relishes the mix of flavors, the shape of his eyes turning into crescents.

“This is so good! It’s _so_ good! As expected of Onigiri Miya!” Hinata cheers out loud, smile so bright it puts the sun to shame. 

“Glad yer likin’ it,” Osamu smiles bashfully, wiping his hands on the towel beside him as he starts working on the next set of onigiris. 

“I once told Kageyama-kun that he had the hands of god, but I stand corrected,” Hinata laughs in delight, taking a break from the onigiri and spooning miso soup into his mouth. “I swear, _Osamu-san_ ’s the one with the hands of god!”

“Oooh Kageyama! He’s got some nasty skills, that’s for sure,” Bokuto agrees without really listening to the conversation. His attention is only on his onigiri, chewing merrily on the yakiniku. He then says something about the onigiri being moist. It sounds like a compliment, but Osamu doesn’t really want to hear about it.

“Oi, what’s all this praise I’m hearin’ for Tobio-kun?” Atsumu whips his head up, a defensive gleam in his eyes. “And I’m tellin’ ya, Shoyo-kun, any more compliments outta yer mouth and ‘Samu here’ll be fallin’ head over heels for ya!”

Osamu lurches a little, fingers tightening on the edge of his worktable. _The hell is ‘Tsumu on about?_

“O-oh,” Hinata hesitates a little, awkwardly placing his spoon down. “I mean, well, I _did_ mean everything I said, and Osamu-san’s food really is awesome!”

Hinata averts Atsumu’s eyes and flushes a little when he turns his gaze on Osamu. “Thank you again for making this, Osamu-san!”

Osamu blinks at the pink that lightly brushes Hinata’s cheeks. “This ain’t much. Plus, seeing—”

_Seeing you eat makes me happy._

Osamu falters, the unexpected words that almost fell out of his mouth now stuck in his throat. 

“...Eh? Osamu-san? Were you about to say something?” Hinata sounds a bit concerned, his eyes staring fixedly at him.

“N-nothing.” Osamu can’t help the quiver in his voice, facing downwards at his hands. 

Thankfully, he’s probably the only one feeling a tightness in the air. The three continue their conversations loudly as though nothing had happened, happily gobbling down on their onigiris; Atsumu with his usual sarcastic comments, Bokuto riling him up, and Hinata sitting in the middle of the two laughing at his idiotic teammates. 

But for Osamu, the pumping in his heart is louder than anything, unmistakable in his ears. It’s a feeling completely alien to Osamu; it doesn’t feel bad, but it’s not entirely pleasant either. 

He doesn’t understand himself. Why did his brain immediately think of saying that seeing Hinata eat makes him happy? Why was that his instinctual reaction to Hinata’s words, to Hinata’s face?

As the night goes on, Osamu wonders what this all means. 

* * *

  
  


Months pass and Hinata’s trips to Onigiri Miya gradually increase. 

The first time he’d come over after that night with Atsumu and Bokuto, he’s alone. Osamu remembers it clearly. Hinata claimed that he was craving Osamu’s onsen egg onigiri, and the two of them were left alone in the near empty shop with only a young couple sitting in the corner. 

At first, words of exchange were minimal. They would ask about each other’s days, and Hinata would spend the next half an hour chowing down on his food. Osamu, on the other hand, spent most of his time watching Hinata eat, particularly fixated on the line of his mouth that curves prettily every time he stops to savor the food. 

Hinata’s probably caught him staring a few times. Not that it really matters to Osamu if he did or not. He _has_ been staring at Hinata, after all—at his mouth, in particular.

A few more visits after that, and small talk turned into proper conversations. Hinata would ask Osamu about Onigiri Miya, about his life in Hyogo and at Inarizaki; Osamu would listen to Hinata’s high school days in Miyagi, about his long days at practice. He would also take mental notes on every single embarrassing thing Atsumu did. 

Everything flowed easily between them. Nothing ever felt awkward, and all silences that befell them were pleasant, comfortable. Stories and troubles were ceaselessly delivered back and forth, and Osamu was often struck with an uncanny feeling that they'd known each other forever.

It’s eleven minutes past ten when Hinata arrives at Onigiri Miya for the first time this week.

“Osamu-san! Good evening!”

Osamu feels a smile tug on the corners of his lips before he even looks up, and Hinata is already seated at the counter by the time Osamu finishes toweling his worktable. 

“You’ve been comin’ quite often, Shoyo-kun,” Osamu observes, placing a cup of tea in front of him. 

“Of course! Onigiri Miya’s the best place to eat after practice,” Hinata beams, accepting the tea with a small bow.

Osamu hums, washing his hands in the sink. “Same old? Or do ya wanna try somethin’ else for a change?”

“Hmm I’m feeling adventurous today,” Hinata scans the menu, an all-too-serious look on his face. Osamu smiles a little at the wrinkle in his forehead. “Ooh ooh, then I guess I’ll have the cheese curry mayo onigiri set! XXL please!”

“Comin’ right up,” Osamu sets to work, preparing the ingredients. “Ya look like yer in a good mood today, Shoyo-kun.”

Hinata laughs, pushing his chair back a little and balancing it firmly, dangling his legs. “Am I being that obvious?”

“What, mastered a new skill today?”

“Ding ding ding,” Hinata imitates the noise of a bell, grin widening. “Yup, I managed to hit the _perfect_ super in-line cross today with my left hand! No one was ready for it!”

Hinata reenacts the whole thing, twisting his arms comically and smashing his hand downwards, _wham!_ and _bam!_ and _boing!_ and other questionable noises filling up the shop. 

“Woah,” Osamu whistles, entirely impressed. “Karasuno’s number 10 sure has come a long way, huh.”

“You betcha,” Hinata settles back down in his seat, a sheer, blissful look on his face. 

And Osamu can’t help but stop and stare. 

Hinata’s opted for a dark blue hoodie today, complementing his orange hair nicely; as usual, his eyes are intelligent, joyous, and incredibly clear. Underneath the lights he looks softer than ever, purer, his smile resting between a faint blush.

God. Hinata’s smile really is something. It makes Osamu want to smile too, and that’s not a particularly easy feat. 

_Seeing you happy makes me happy._

The sudden admission hits him out of the blue, but it feels like lapping waves against sand. The realization is serene, mild, yielding. 

Osamu slowly processes the feelings inside him. He ponders the meaning of the happiness he’s feeling right now, and the happiness he has felt throughout all the nights Hinata had come into his shop with a grin on his face and a glimmer in his eyes. If he were to be honest with himself, the nights he usually spends alone in the empty shop before closing get a bit lonely at times. But in these past months, having Hinata here with him on most days of the week...maybe his presence had helped him a lot more than he’d thought. 

Or maybe it’s just _him_. Just Hinata.

Osamu doesn’t really know when “seeing you eat makes me happy” turned into “seeing you happy makes me happy”, but it doesn’t really matter now, anyway. 

The answer is easy. He’s in love with Hinata. And that’s all there is to it, really.

Hinata clears his throat awkwardly. “Um...Osamu-san…?”

Osamu starts a little, suddenly very aware of the fact that his eyes have been trained on Hinata this whole time, probably much longer than usual. His hands have stopped moving as well, the nearly-finished onigiri sitting in the palm of his hand. 

“Why are you staring at me like that…?” Hinata fumbles over his words a little, fingers anxiously tracing the edges of his tea cup.

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” Osamu breaks his stare and faces downwards at his hands, resuming his onigiri-making with a sheepish look on his face. “I was just thinkin’ that seein’ ya this happy makes me real happy too.”

Hinata chokes a little, dark amber eyes widening. “W-what…?”

Osamu doesn’t reply, too busy spooning miso soup into the bowl on the dark red tray. He adds pickles to the small dish on the side and sets the finished onigiri on the plate. 

“Cheese curry mayo onigiri set,” Osamu places the meal in front of a very stunned looking Hinata, whose face is still burning a little. “Thanks for the wait~”

Osamu stands expectantly for half a minute or so, waiting for Hinata to eat—but Hinata’s hands continue to stay rigidly on his knees, the food in front of him untouched.

“Shoyo-kun? What’s wro—”

“Osamu-san…” Hinata cuts him off before he can finish, a nervous glint flitting in his eyes.

“Hm...?”

“Um, I’ve been meaning to ask this for some time now, but…” Hinata fidgets under Osamu’s firm gaze, face turning a darker shade of pink. “Osamu-san…are you perhaps…interested in me?”

Osamu blinks at the sudden question. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Ah.” Hinata lets out a squeak in response to the immediate confession, voice an octave higher than usual. _Cute_ , Osamu thinks.

“B-but, why haven’t you said anything about it? About liking me? In a not-friend way?” Hinata’s looking a lot more flustered than usual, which is strange considering _he_ was the one who’d thrown the question at him first, without warning.

“I just realized it myself like a minute ago,” Osamu replies matter-of-factly. “Also, ya never asked.”

He doesn’t know why Hinata looks as though he’s about to die from embarrassment. 

“...So you’re saying that if I’d asked you that two days ago, or a week ago, or a month ago...you would’ve given me the same answer?” 

Osamu shrugs his shoulders. “I guess. It’s a pretty straightforward feeling, if ya ask me...I would’ve just needed a few minutes ta think it through, and my answer would’ve probably still been the same."

Hinata buries his face in his hands, a sigh escaping him and trailing off into a semi-voice crack. “Osamu-san…You’re gonna drive me crazy…”

“Do ya like me too, then?” Osamu asks, and as soon as the question comes out of his mouth, he regrets it. Sort of. 

Potential feelings are uncharted territory, and even if Osamu thinks he’d be alright if Hinata doesn’t return these feelings and if they end up staying as friends, there’s no saying what Hinata might think.

Hinata peeks cautiously at Osamu from between his fingers. “What do you think, Osamu-san?” 

“Hmm...I guess ya like my onigiris…?” Osamu offers not-so-helpfully, sounding a lot lamer than he’d expected.

“Ughhhh... _yes_ I do, but,” Hinata groans loudly, the noises echoing around the empty shop. “That’s not all I like about you!”

“So ya _do_ like me then?” There really isn’t a question in Osamu’s voice, but he feels his heart pick up speed at the way Hinata freezes in his seat, anticipation building in his chest as he waits for an answer.

After a while, Hinata looks up from between his hands and Osamu starts a little as he sees the redness spread out across Hinata's face, looking awfully shy. 

“...Yes, I do like you, Osamu-san. Very much.”

Osamu exhales. _Well_. That’s good, isn’t it?

“If ya like me that much, ya best finish that onigiri before it gets cold,” Osamu addresses the abandoned tray of food in front of Hinata.

“O-oh, right, okay,” Hinata scrambles for the onigiri before dropping it again, having forgotten his customary pre-meal routine; he shifts in his chair and clasps his hands together tightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

The sequence of flurried movements are not unlike a newborn baby chick wandering around all skittish and jittery, and Osamu struggles to suppress a laugh. 

As Hinata continues with his eyes shut, Osamu takes in his features again, nose scrunched up and a pout on his lips. Hinata's face makes him feels at peace, and it’s a wonderful feeling that he can _definitely_ get used to. Everything feels light, effortless, incredibly comfortable; if this is what love is like, Osamu thinks he really won’t mind being in love with Hinata forever.

Hinata reopens his eyes and smiles, warmth washing across his expression.

“Thank you for the meal!” 

* * *

  
  


“Are ya still hungry?” 

Hinata places both hands on his stomach, frowning slightly. “Hmm…yeah, a little.”

“Why don’t cha come back to my place? I’ll make ya something,” Osamu finishes closing up the shop and steps out into the streets, Tokyo lights bright as ever all around him.

Hinata’s eyes widen, nervously shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Ah, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother…”

Osamu hums amiably before taking Hinata by the hand and starting off in the direction to his apartment, towing an embarrassed-looking Hinata by his side. Osamu silently revels in the feeling of Hinata’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers tightly. 

“What’s yer all-time favorite food, Shoyo-kun?”

“Um, tamago kake gohan,” Hinata stammers out, face immediately reddening. “Oh but you don’t have to, um, specifically make that for me or anything!”

“Don’t be silly, that’s the easiest thing ta make in the world.” Osamu smiles down at Hinata, squeezing his hand lightly. In an instant, the worry in Hinata’s eyes melt away into a blissful smile on his face, happily admitting defeat. 

Sure, egg on rice with soy sauce is indeed one of the easiest things to make in the world.

But then again, nothing came easier for Osamu than falling in love with Hinata.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading until the end!! fyi for the first scene in this fic, i thought of hinata in that One (1) scene during the training camp where he was gulping down a mountain of rice (season 2 ep 9 for reference) as i wrote it fhnfhfnhf


End file.
